Chapter 35 – Seth #4
“If the train’s left the station, wouldn’t that mean you can’t get it up?” she whispers back with a smile.
“That’s never been a problem for me,” I say against her ear, guiding her toward the back of the train where the bathrooms are. My hand finds hers, fingers laced, and I’m half-dragging her with me because I’m already so hard I can barely walk.
No one’s back here. The car’s quiet, just the steady hum of wheels over tracks and the occasional sway of the train as we move through the dark night.
The second we’re inside the bathroom I lock the door and turn her toward the mirror.
She barely has time to catch her breath before I’m shoving her yoga pants down around her thighs, freeing myself with one hand and gripping her hip with the other.
The mirror’s to our side and yeah, it’s a small one that’s awkwardly positioned so that it cuts off right at her hips, but I can still see her sexy face, neck and body and that’s enough for me.
One foot comes up on the toilet lid for leverage, the other planted firm on the floor, her hands brace against the wall in front of her. I drag the thick weight of my cock over her ass, then slowly coat it with her arousal.
She rocks back into me, and I dip my fingers inside her opening. She’s already soaked.
“Going to use this to wet my cock.”
I stroke her pussy a few more times then use her wetness to coat my shaft, feeling myself thicken in my grip. Then I press inside her pussy and bury myself to the root without much preamble.
She’s warm, wet, and gripping me so perfectly it’s excruciating—like every nerve in my body is tuned to the rhythm of us. I watch in the mirror as her eyes close gently and she lets out a soft breath, her head resting against my chest. I bury my face in her hair and inhale her scent.
“Hold onto the handle,” I murmur.
She reaches out, grabbing the chrome bar meant to steady passengers as I lock both hands on her hips and start moving—long, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.
She fucks back into me just as eagerly, just as greedy, and I’ve got my teeth gritted, squeezing the base of my cock each time it connects with her ass to keep from coming too fast.
I lean forward, lips brushing her ear as I thrust. “Slam track.”
She chokes on a laugh, breathless. “You’re such an idiot.”
“You love it.”
She moans, low and needy. “I do.”
“You think the Wellingtons would ever do something like this?” I ask.
She laughs. “Nah. But the Tremblays would.” She freezes for half a beat, like the words slipped out before she meant to say them. I don’t call it out. I just smile, even though she can’t see it and watch her in the mirror, wide, green eyes full of fear.
She’s thinking about it. About me. About us. About the last name on her back becoming hers.
Might be a dumb thing to care about—hell, both of my ex-wives never took my last name, and I never pushed.
Never thought it mattered. Why should a woman have to give up her whole name just because she marries someone?
It’s an outdated practice if you ask me and if Sawyer ever marries, I’m going to tell her she shouldn’t feel the pressure to change her name.
But I bet why Bri may never have felt connected to hers. It wasn’t her mom’s, and her dad was never around. She doesn’t wear it like armor. She wears mine instead.
I reach for the jersey still bunched up on her shoulders, fingers tracing the letters across the back that spell out my last name.
“Tremblay,” I murmur, finishing the Y as I slide my cock the way out, just to watch her body clench around nothing—wet and swollen and so fucking pretty as it weeps for me.
“Brianna Tremblay.”
She shudders, pushing back against me, breath catching. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t ruin it, Soul.” My voice is rough. “I want that just as badly as you do.”
She exhales a shaky breath, and I grip her tighter, one hand sliding around to find her clit, the other gently collaring her throat.
She jerks under my touch, already close, and I rub slow circles until she’s curling over, her whole-body clenching around me as she comes.
I follow her, biting into her shoulder blade to stay silent.
When I pull out our eyes connect in the mirror as we watch each other. Her pretty cheeks flush, pussy soft and swollen from my cock as it drips down her thighs.
“Beautiful,” I murmur. I can’t wait to propose to her. I can’t wait to marry her. I can’t wait until we make her a Tremblay.
I grab some toilet paper to gently clean between her thighs, then tug her pants back into place.
We sneak out a minute later, slipping back into our seats like two well-behaved passengers.
She curls into me, head resting on my shoulder like nothing happened, hand over top my heart that’s still beating wildly.
And for the first time in a long fucking time, I realize something I didn’t expect. I’m happy. I’m not looking over my shoulder for the next bad thing to happen. I’m not a father who feels like he’s failing every decision he makes for Sawyer.
I’m happy. And it’s all because of her.